


hold that pillow any longer (it'll get sentimental value)

by Rebldomakr



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Body Horror, Body Image, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gender Dysphoria, Omega Will Byers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Sexism, Racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Will Byers was cursed the day he was born. Not because his family wasn't wealthy or because his parents were destined for divorce and toxicity, but simply because he was an Omega.[basically will's life reimagined in an a/b/o universe]





	hold that pillow any longer (it'll get sentimental value)

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed, I checked for as many mistakes as I could find but I'm far from a good editor.
> 
> p.s. this fic is going to eventually include underage sex and a LOT more body dysphoria due to Will's second gender conflicting with his primary gender. there will also be body horror in the second chapter.

Hawkins in the summer of 1977 is like a pot of butter being melted in the microwave for too long. As a result, the people are sweaty and greasy and unable to properly function. Even the bus system is running by a few minutes, though the streets are unclogged and the skies are clear. This is the summer where everyone’s talking about the Harrington family’s brand new pool. Mostly because Mrs. Harrington is throwing pool parties every weekend in honor of her son, and anyone who is anyone has been invited. It’s natural that the Byers family, is so very far away.

In the Byers family home, the one that had belonged once to Joyce Byers’ mother before her untimely death – cancer, the doctor’s said – one of the few families that go uninvited to any Harrington-hosted function simmer in the heat. They have a single air conditioner. It’s in Joyce and Lonnie’s bedroom, though the door is always closed so the room is perfectly cold when they go to bed. In the rest of the house, fans are jammed in windows and placed in open spaces to try to circulate air as much as possible. The curtains are drawn back and windows pried as open as possible to try, desperately, to capture the breeze.

At about six o’clock at night, Joyce Byers is at work. She’s working at the general store in town after being fired from the Gerber factory. It’s less pay, but at least it’s closer and the owner is nice. Everything is fine, though, because Lonnie is making alright money doing – whatever he chooses to do in a particular day. He mows lawns, paints houses, gambles in bars, it’s never anything that totals in a proper paycheck. He brings home enough money, though, to give his family the bare minimum with a few extras here and there.

Jonathan Byers, their oldest son, is sitting at the kitchen table. He’s wearing a green-gray shirt that once belonged to his mother, one that she’s gotten too small to wear so it was passed onto him. He likes it because it’s cool. He’ll never wear it outside of the safe confines of their home. He tries not to wear it around his father. He’s reading a book about photography. He wants to become a professional photographer, though his father always tells him how unlikely it is he’ll ever achieve his dreams. The only thing he needs to worry about is good grades in school and watching after his little brother.

It’s very important that he take care of his little brother because his little brother is an Omega. Jonathan’s summer could be better spent. He could be taking pictures, trying to make friends with the kids his age, doing literally anything else – but he’s got a duty as a big brother. His parents have to work, they’re busy people, so his little brother needs him. He still takes what time he can get to himself, though. Meaning when they’re showing Star Trek reruns, when Will is ensnared by the television, Jonathan sits and does what he can to enjoy his summer vacation. Right now, it’s reading, while Will watches badly dressed alien women and Captain Kirk.

Will is halfway through an episode and Jonathan is almost done with his book when the digital clock in the kitchen says it’s 6:34 PM. The front door swings open. It isn’t Joyce, like how Jonathan would’ve preferred. It’s Lonnie. Lonnie, who has a swollen bottom lip and a red eye that’ll be purple by tomorrow morning. Jonathan withholds a sigh and focuses back on his book, hoping his father won’t be upset with him letting Will watch TV.

Lonnie slams the door shut behind him. He looks over at Will. The Omega, smaller than even the other Omegas his age because he was born a month too early and it doesn’t matter because he’s bound to catch up _eventually_ , is dressed in shorts that barely get past his hips. He’s shirtless, too. He’s coated in a drying layer of sweat. The day’s heat is fading and being replaced with the night’s cold which, really, is only a little better.

“For fuck’s sake,” Lonnie curses. “Jonathan!”

At the kitchen table, Jonathan marks his page and closes the book. “Yes, sir?” He asks. Quick to answer, ready for obedience. That’s how he keeps Lonnie’s rage off of him.

“Why the fuck isn’t your brother wearing a shirt?” Lonnie says, walking towards him. “Jesus Christ. His tits are just fucking hanging out.”

“He’s a boy.” Jonathan says.

Lonnie sneers. He nears the kitchen table and he shoves his leg up, kicking the bottom of the table. It bumps upwards and everything on top of it shakes. “He’s an Omega, you _dumbass_. Now go get a shirt for him.” He says. “Before I beat your ass!”

“Yes, sir.” Jonathan obeys, going quickly to grab a shirt for his little brother.

Will looks away from the television and looks at Lonnie. “Daddy?” He asks, leaning forward to shove his hands on the ground. He stands up, knees wobbling just for a second, before he rushes towards his dad. “I didn’t get welcome home hug!” He says, crying out. He holds his arms up in the air, but as he gets closer Lonnie turns away from him.

“Wait until you get a shirt on.” Lonnie says. “It’s indecent to hug you right now.”

“Dunno that means.” Will says, getting closer. His dad doesn’t respond to him this time and Will’s eyes begin to water. “Daddy! Was I bad?” He asks.

“You have to wear a shirt, princess.” Lonnie says, turning head back and looking down at Will. “You’re an Omega. You have boobs, sweetie, and you can’t be showing them off like this. It’s not good.”

Will nods and covers his chest with his right arm and his stomach with his left. “Can I have a hug now?” He asks, unshed tears making his eyes gleam abnormally and seem wide.

“When your big brother comes back with a shirt.” Lonnie says. “Not good to hug without a shirt.”

Jonathan returns with a neon pink shirt in his hands. He gets down on his knees and pulls the shirt over his brother’s head. He helps Will tug his arms into the sleeves and brushes his hair down with fingers.

“Now, hug?” Will asks.                                            

Lonnie nods and bends down, picking up his son and kissing his forehead. He walks towards the living room, where the television is showing a commercial. “Just remember, baby, you can’t let anyone see these.” He says, placing his free hand over Will’s chest and squeezing – digging his fingers into Will’s skin through the shirt.

,                                                    

Will’s bedroom is the most decorated, and the fullest, out of all the rooms in the Byers’ home. His Barbie dolls are everywhere with colored bins sitting on racks full of miniature clothes and accessories sitting between his two tall dressers, the shelves lined in books and garage sale knick knacks, and the robot-looking plastic toys that dot the room. His walls are covered in posters that hide the pink wallpaper. His bedroom light it a miniature chandelier, which had replaced a plain bulb when he was four because his dad thought his little princess deserved something pretty. That was also when he had gotten the pink wallpaper and light gray carpet.

He is six years old when Jonathan comes home covered in tears and blood. He rushes to his bathroom carrying the gun his dad had lent him, closing the door quietly despite his obvious panic. Will only saw him in a blur, occupied more with the G.I. Joe doll someone from his class had given him earlier. He likes it more than any of his other toys, he doesn’t know why. It’s just more fun to play single-handed war than it is to play dress-up. He decides to set it aside, though, to check on his big brother.

“Jon?” Will asks, tapping his fist lightly on the bathroom door.

There’s a short pause before his big brother responds, “Go away! I’m taking a shower!”

“Oh. Okay.” Will says. He walks back to his room just in time to see his mom snatch a bottle from his dad’s hand. She smashes it on the ground. He winces at the loud noise and rushes quicker to his bedroom.

Will climbs onto his bed and sits there, his G.I. Joe doll laying on the floor. He grabs a stuffed bear and holds it close to his chest, laying his chin on the head and closing his eyes. “Don’t like when mommy and daddy fight.” He murmurs, lips barely moving.

The noise escalates. More objects are undoubtedly smashed and the talking-arguing turns into screaming-arguing. Will pets the back of his teddy bear’s head. He looks out of his open door, wishing he is allowed to close it before bedtime.

“Get out!” His mom screeches. It carries easily down the hallway. Will whines and backs up against the headboard, clutching his bear harder. He holds back tears. He doesn’t like it when his parents scream and fight.

Things become still. A stutter of heartbeats pass before he hears someone walking down the hallway, towards his bedroom. His dad appears, stopping in front of the doorway. “Hi, daddy.” Will greets.

“Hello sweetheart.” His dad smiles, walking inside. “Mommy’s acting a little crazy so I’m going to go stay at Aunt Barbara’s for the night.” He says.

Aunt Barbara is the pretty woman who gives Will chocolate chip cookies when she comes over, but she only comes around when his mom is at work. He doesn’t think they like each other very much. His dad stays with her sometimes. He’s always gone for a while when he leaves to be with her.

“Goodbye kiss?” Will asks.

His dad nods and walks closer to him. He sits down on the edge of his bed. “Always a goodbye kiss.” He says. He reaches forward and pinches Will’s chin between two of his fingers. He leans in and kisses him on the lips, smiling gently into the kiss.

Will pushes back and smiles, too. When his dad lets go of his chin and pulls away, he asks, “A hug, too?”

“A hug, too.” His dad repeats, laughing. He opens up his arms and encircles Will tightly.

He buries his head into his dad’s neck and closes his eyes. He breathes in the familiar scent, letting it wash over him. “Don’t like it when you go.” He says. It’s muffled, but his dad seems to hear.

“I know, baby. One day when I leave, I’ll take you with.” His dad says. “Promise.”

Will lets go of his dad and sticks up his pinkie. “Promise?” He asks.

His dad smiles and wraps his pinkie around Will’s. “Promise.” He says. “Now, get in bed. It’s eight o’clock at night. You need to sleep, baby.”

“Okay.” Will says. He casts a quick glance over to his G.I. Joe doll, but instead grabs his teddy bear. He is helped underneath the covers and tucked in.

“Love you lots and lots.” He says.

“Love you, too.” His dad answers. His dad switches on his small, Avon shampoo bottle-shaped radio and his moon-shaped nightlight before turning off his bedroom light. “Goodnight, baby, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” His dad says as he leaves. It’s a soft whisper that reminds Will of a dog growling.

His dad returns the next day with a bruise on his neck.

,

Lonnie and Joyce’s last fight wasn’t even one of their worst ones. It was as surprising to Joyce as it was to Will and Jonathan when Lonnie delivered divorce papers. “I can’t stand to be in this house with you anymore.” Was met with a teary, “Glad to see you leave, you piece of shit.”. And as chaotic and dysfunctional as the entire marriage had been, it was still surprising for Jonathan to see it shatter for the last time and still destructive for Will to see his father leave to not come back in the morning. Joyce spent the first night drinking Lonnie’s whiskey. Jonathan and Will spent it in the forest, putting together a fort.

The heavy, on and off rain had been slamming into Hawkins for a week when it happened. It’s springtime, meaning there was the summer heat accompanied by life-breathing rain that was heavy enough to ensure that the Indiana springtime bloom would be strong, plentiful, and beautiful. Unluckily for the brothers, a thunderstorm came with a gift of a cold front for a night. They finished their fort and came home to their drunk mother sleeping on the couch. They were soaking wet and sniffling into their sleeves.

It was natural that they become sick. It’s just bad luck for them that they get sick during a hot, humid stretch of spring. It’s the time of weather that makes people pray for the biting cold of winter. Anything is better than this purgatory of sweat and perpetual dampness. They’ve got, pretty much, a summer cold even though it’s spring. They are both terribly sick with thick mucus in their heads, aching ears and throats, and constant fatigue. It’s also humid, which is honestly the worst thing.

Joyce gives them the dehumidifier and two fans before closing the door. She has to go to work with her red eyes, bags, and look of absolute despair wrapped around her as though she didn’t hate Lonnie’s guts. Things were going to be so hard, now, without Lonnie around. She can’t even imagine how she’s going to handle Will without Lonnie, how her youngest son is going to _react_ to the divorce once the dust settles.

 Jonathan’s bedroom is incredibly humid even with the dehumidifier. The blankets have been sacrificed to the floor. Will’s got his nose jammed into Jonathan’s armpit, his arms and legs on his brother’s body like octopus limbs attached to a prey. They would both sweat less if Will could let go, but he isn’t going to. He craves attention and affection because he was raised for it, but the one person who gave him it the most was gone, now, to be with a girlfriend and to do _whatever the fuck_ divorcees getting away from their kids and exes _do_.

“I miss daddy.” Will whispers. The sun is at its peak and Joyce left about an hour ago. He’s seven years old and he doesn’t understand why his dad would leave.

His brother snorts. “I don’t. He was a cunt.” He says.

Will sniffs. Because of the mucus running out. Because it helps him hold back the tears a little while longer. “I thought he loved us.” He says.

“He loves you.” Jonathan says-sighs. “Because you’re an Omega and he’s a sexist piece of shit. Do you really want him back? He gave mom a black eye four months ago.”

“Daddy said sorry.” Will defends.

Jonathan doesn’t care. He just closes his eyes and continues to inhale-exhale through his mouth. His nose is filled with thick, at least not lumpy (that's for when he coughs), yellow and white mucus depending on the mood of his nose. “Dad’s an asshole. He only treats you nice because you’re an Omega.”

His brother sniffs again. It’s wetter.

“Fuck.” Jonathan groans. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you cursing all the time now?” Will whines, rubbing his nose into the baby-fuzz hair growing on Jonathan. It’s dark brown and thick, and now it even smells different like it looks different. Will just wants things to go back the way they’ve been for years.

“I’m just stressed.” Jonathan says. “We’re going to have to help mom a lot more now. Dad’s gone and he isn’t going to do anything anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Will asks.

“ _Will_.” Jonathan says.

“ _Jon_!” Will says back.

Both boys become quiet. Will pulls away from Jonathan and curls into a ball, apart from him. “I just want daddy back home and mommy to smile again.” He says.

“Mom’s only going to be happy without dad.” Jonathan says. “Dad’s only going to be happy if he gets knot deep in some fucking whore.” He huffs out, red cheeks turning even redder.

Will frowns. He rolls to his other side and stares at his big brother. “What does that mean?” He asks.

“Alphas have knots.” Jonathan says, staring into Will’s eyes. “It’s," He hesitates, "It's on our private parts.”

,

Will’s eight years old in his big brother’s old demin shorts that are too loose and go to his knees and a white t-shirt with pink flowers splattered on the front that his mom bought for him from a yard sale. He’s got socks on, too, but they’re old and there’s holes on both. The right foot has a big hole on his heal and there’s a chunk missing that shows his pinkie toe. The left foot has a tear on the ankle and his big toe sticks out at the end. Will is eight years old and he’s starting to run out of girl clothes that fit him. It’s just easier to wear the hand-me-downs from his brother. It helps that they’re more comfortable, that they make him fit in better with his friends. A part of him does miss the frilly dresses, but at the same time – he doesn’t feel bad when he gets dirt on himself playing or when he gets a grease blob on these clothes. Stains come out a whole lot easier.

“The thrift store is having a sale on Friday.” Joyce says, walking into the living room from the kitchen. She’s got her face into a copy of the newspaper. “Nothing’s over seventy-five cents! I bet we can get you and Jonathan a whole new wardrobe.” She looks away from the paper to her youngest son.

“Sounds cool.” Will says. He’s watching a cartoon that he’s not even really paying attention to, because he’s thinking more about how Mike invited him to go trick or treating with him on Halloween. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to dress up as. Last year they didn’t celebrate Halloween. Every year before that he’s been a Disney princess by the request of his dad, but he hasn’t seen his dad in a year. He barely gets phone calls. 

“Maybe they’ll have some dresses.” Joyce says, folding the paper in half. She walks closer to her son and sits down on the sofa’s armrest. “I know you’ve been wearing  a lot of Jonathan’s old clothes lately, and I know you probably don't like that-“

“I do.” Will says, head falling a bit to the side to look up at her. “I mean, I don’t mind.” He corrects. “They’re a lot more comfortable, and,” He pauses, then continues on, “And I look like my friends when I wear his clothes.”

“All your friends are Alphas.” Joyce says.

Will nods.

“Do you mind that?” She asks curiously. “Don’t you want Omega friends?”

Will thinks about all the mean girls in his class, all the Omegas and the Betas who wear their skirts and pastel colors with pride. They don’t like him. They call him a freak because he’s a boy, but it’s like he’s not because he’s an Omega. He’s weird. He’s odd. “I like my friends.” He says.

“Okay.” Joyce nods. “Well, what kind of clothes do you want this weekend?”

“Can I get both kinds?” Will asks.

“Of course.” Joyce says. She smiles, a soft small one, at her son. She looks at the television, looks at the bright shades but screen-dulled colors.

Will then says, “Mike invited me to go trick or treating with him. _Everyone’s_ going.”

“ _Everyone_.” Joyce mouthed. “Alright. What do you want to be? Snow White again?”

“Well, is dad going to come over?” Will asks.

“No.” Joyce says.

Will shrugs. “Then I wanna be something else. Dad always wants me to be a princess, but I’ve never been anything else.” He says. “Jonathan was a vampire one year, right?”

“Do you want to be a vampire?” Joyce asks.

“Vampire sounds fun.” Will says. “I wanna be a boy vampire, mom.” He adds. “I don’t wanna be a girl.”

“Well,” She begins slowly. “You are a boy.”

Will smiles.

,              

Joyce is standing near the kitchen sink, drying off her hands after doing the first set of dishes.

“Maybe we should just let Lonnie take him for the summer, or least for the weekends.” Jonathan tells his mom, leaning against the counter next to her. He glances at their Omega, Will, who is stirring his cereal with a fat-bellied spoon at the kitchen table. He adds, “Lonnie always gets him clothes. He’s outgrew his old stuff and he needs a new wardrobe for the school year.”.

“Like I trust that-“ Joyce begins to snarl, before cutting herself off. She clenches her fists into the semi-dry cloth and grits her teeth.

Jonathan rolls his eyes and leans in closer to her, whispering, “I know he’s a pervert, but he’s always been good with Will. He won’t do anything.”

His mother releases the tension in her shoulders, sighing and looking down at the floor. She bites down on her bottom lip. “Will does need new clothes.” She says.

Will looks over at his mom and brother, talking so quietly between themselves. He hates being left out of things, but he always has been. He’s young, he’s an Omega, he won’t understand, so why should he know anything? It sucks. The only thing he’s been able to understand is that they are talking about his dad. He hasn’t seen Lonnie since Christmas. He knows his dad won’t be happy seeing him in Jonathan’s old clothes. They’re baggy and unbecoming of an Omega. So, he’d be taken to get _Omega_ clothes. Pretty pink, or pastel, things that are feminine and so not what he actually feels comfortable with. He’s an Omega though, so he _needs_ to be feminine.

“And Lonnie always gets him nice clothes and good shoes. Maybe he’ll even get the nail polish Will’s been wanting.” Jonathan says.

“He doesn’t want the nail polish, he just wants to fit in with the other Omegas.” Joyce says, then looks at Will like she just remembered he’s there. She amends, “I’m sure Lonnie will get him anything he asks for.” She knows Lonnie would take him to the mall. He would get more than enough for the next year because he’s been growing so slow. His clothes should last for a long time if he doesn’t destroy them playing with his friends.

“You want to call Lonnie, or do you want me to?” Jonathan asks.

“I can do it. I’m the mother.” Joyce answers. She sighs. “I have to get to work. I’ll call him tonight and schedule it for this weekend.”

Joyce grabs her keys and surveys the kitchen, briefly, before leaving. She kisses Jonathan’s head (he’s getting too old for goodbye kisses) before kissing Will’s cheek (he’s still happy to receive them). “Bye!” She yells.

When she is gone for a few minutes, the kitchen silent except for the movement of silverware against porcelain dishes, Jonathan sits down next to Will.  “Do you want oatmeal or eggs? You didn’t eat your cereal.” He says.

Will shakes his head. He lifts his spoon out of the bowl, milk dripping over the edges. He stares at the soggy Fruit Loops. “I get to see dad this weekend?” He asks, letting the spoon drop. It clangs.

“If he doesn’t fight with mom on the phone again, probably.” Jonathan says. “Finally be able to wear clothes you’ll like.” He can’t imagine Will, an _Omega_ , is very happy about wearing his _Alpha_ brother’s old clothes. They were new once, but now they’re mostly faded and smell like Jonathan no matter how much they are washed. They’re also darkly colored, because Jonathan has always preferred darker shades of all the colors, and far from what an Omega likes to wear.

“I like these clothes.” Will mumbles, words slurred together enough that Jonathan almost didn’t understand him.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan asks.

“I won’t fit in with my friends anymore when I wear the girly clothes.” Will says louder, like one long sigh. His friends are all Alphas. Shouldn't people just understand why he feels the way he does? “And no one else wants to hang out with me, because I’m the only male Omega in our entire school. The girls don’t want to hang out with me. And my friends only like me because I don’t act like a girl. They’ve _told_ me!” It all rushes out like a volcano erupting. As more of the words had spilt out, his cheeks had gotten redder and redder until his face down to his neck were cherry colored.

“Come on, I know they aren’t going to drop you because of what you wear. You still like the same stuff.” Jonathan says. The comic books, video games, that weird game they’ve begun playing at Mike Wheeler’s house, shoving each other around while avoiding the dirt yet managing to get filthy anyways because they’re all boys.

Will shrugs, now quiet, as his face pales back. “Troy told me they only keep me around because I don’t look like an Omega.” He says.

“Troy? The little Alpha who got held back?” Jonathan asks, frowning. He knows Troy. He knows Troy’s brother and his father, too. “He’s just being an asshole. Alphas always are.”

“That’s not true.” Will says. “You’re an Alpha and you’re nice. Mike and Lucas and Dustin are Alphas and they are nice. Dad’s an Alpha and he’s nice.”

“Dad’s not nice.” Jonathan snaps. Will winces and looks down. “I mean, he’s not nice to everyone.” He says.  He scratches his chin and sighs. “Do you really believe Troy?”

“Mike said Troy was just being a jerk.” Will says. “But I don’t look like an Omega, do I? I’m not a girl and all the other Omegas in my class are going to have boobs. I’ll _never_ have boobs.”

“Because you’re a boy.” Jonathan says. “Do you want to look more like them, or do you want to fit in with your friends?”

“I wish I could fit in with them both.” Will says. He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all really stupid. I’m a boy but I can’t wear boy clothes without being weird because I’m an Omega and I should wear girl clothes.” He seems ready to continue talking, but he stops.

 “Lots of girls wear boy clothes, so you can, too.” Jonathan says. “Don’t care about what Troy thinks.”

Will pushes his bowl of cereal away from him. “Can you make me oatmeal?” He asks.

Jonathan nods. “No problem.” He says, standing up.

,

Lonnie Byers is not a good dad. Will recognizes this by the time he’s ten years old, but he still holds dear onto the memories of welcome home hugs and bedtime kisses. He remembers playing dominos more than he remembers his dad yelling at his big brother. The obliviousness and ignorance of his earliest youth makes him connect the good, happy times to the days when his parents’ marriage was intact. Still, he knows his dad isn’t a _good_ dad. He knows because as much as love is claimed, he’s only seen very occasionally. He knows, but he still craves the time together and cherishes it deeply.

There’s been three visits since the divorce.

Christmas of 1979 came with an extravagant shopping trip, ending in his father being arrested for possession with the intent to sell. Will was given a ride home to Hawkins by a friendly police officer in a foreign-feeling city which, actually, is only thirty minutes away from home. It’s the longest car ride he’ll remember for the next few years. It included him being tugged into a part of the store filled with visually-pleasing colors that looked like Heaven and Hell had a baby. At least he climbed out of the police cruiser with a toy car that he liked more than any of the things his dad had gotten him, which had been jammed into the backseat. He had sat in the front.

The second visit was the day after his ninth birthday. Lonnie took Will out to eat before giving him an expensive doll. Will should have loved that doll. His dad gave it to him! Only, by this point, he was having trouble believing he was as important to Lonnie as he was told many times before. He traded the pretty doll for an armful of G.I.’s with a girl who stole the armful from her brother. Will’s happiness ran dry when the girl’s mother called his mom. A re-exchange was forced. He was happy that his mom hated his dad too much to ever call him and tell him about the incident. If he had hurt his dad’s feelings, he would have felt bad himself.

The latest visit was Thanksgiving, 1980. Jonathan came with Will that time. They ate dinner around a crowded circular table with Lonnie and Lonnie’s girlfriend. Everything tasted okay, the room smelt like cigarette smoke more than his home ever did and his mom was often a chain smoker. He was forced to wear a dress for the dinner. He hated the dress because it itched and it was uncomfortable. He couldn’t sit the way he wanted to thanks to that dress. He had to only be grateful that his friends couldn’t see him in it.

Outside of those rare visits, Lonnie sent a monthly check with a specific note to spend everything on clothes for Will. He always complained about the clothes Will wore.

It’s a summer weekend in 1981 when Lonnie pulls up in front of the house, for the fourth visit. His car is flashy and meticulously maintained.

Will waves goodbye to his mom and brother watching from the window inside. He rushes towards the car as the door pops open. It’s been locked and pushed outward by his dad inside, leaning over the passenger seat. He pretends he can’t see his father’s disappointed, scanning gaze as he climbs in and locks the buckle into place.

“Hey, princess,” Lonnie says. “I see you’re wearing Jonathan’s old clothes.

“I’ve outgrown everything.” Will says.

“That why your mom said to take you to the mall, huh?” Lonnie asks, shaking his head. Will hesitates with a quick answer and he can’t come up with anything better than what could be shown with a nod, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

“Fine by me.” Lonnie says. “I’ll get you clothes right for an Omega.”

He speeds out of the driveway like he didn’t spend an entire day packing in gravel when Will was three.

They go to a mall far outside of Hawkins. It takes about half a cassette tape full of the same music Will’s mom pretends not to listen to anymore. The parking lot is packed and it takes them a few minutes to squeeze into a spot closer to the entrance of one of the department stores.

“We’ll get you a couple pair of shoes.” Lonnie says, popping open his car door and getting out. Will mimics him. He hears his voice over the hood of the car. “You need a dress. Are you still in your school choir?”

“No.” Will says, walking out and waiting by the trunk for Lonnie to come around towards him. “They said I didn’t sing loud enough.”

“What, did they expect you to shriek?” Lonnie says, sneering. “We can find a dress store. More than one dress.” He decides. He’s thinking, his son got kicked off the school choir, he deserves something to make him feel better. Only it happened months and months ago. Jonathan bought Will ice cream and they watched a talk show together, crowded on one seat of the living room couch.

Lonnie places his hand on Will’s shoulder, guiding him across the lot to the entrance doors.

The touch makes Will feel both uncomfortable and happy. It’s his dad, but it feels strange to be touched so close to his neck.

Necks are sensitive spots for Omegas, underneath the skin is their special hormone gland, and as he’s gotten older it’s only become weirder for people to get close to it. His doctor has touched it, because he’s a doctor. Only Jonathan has come close to it since he was a little kid. He remembers, being little, when his dad would nuzzle into his neck as he told him a bedtime story. It’s faint, foggy, but it’s there. So he relaxes. Of course he does. Why would his dad have any bad ulterior motives? It’s his dad.

As they enter the mall, Will thinks time slows. Lonnie stops to ask a worker about clothes for ten year olds, for girls and Omegas. They’re directed towards the back of the store. It’s there where it becomes blaringly obvious that time has gotten stuck in tree sap.

Lonnie lets Will choose the clothes and the sizes, standing behind him but looking around instead of actually giving any attention. He asks questions.

“How’s Jonathan? He still taking pictures?”

“He’s doing good. Yeah. He develops them at the high school.”

“What about your mom, is she dating anyone?”

“No, I don’t think so. She works a lot.”

“You got a dog now? I saw the chain.”

“Chester. He was a stray.”

“Any friends?”

“Yeah. Mike and Dustin and Lucas.”

“Lucas Sinclair or Lucas Carpenter?”

“Lucas Sinclair.”

“The black boy?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t realize he was an Omega.”

Will wonders, then, if omission truly counts as a lie. He glances back at his dad, a heavy armful of clothes that are weighing him down, and he decides that it doesn’t.

When the load becomes so heavy that Lonnie needs to help, he’s taken to a fitting room. “I want to see everything.” Lonnie says. “Not buying anything unless I know it fits and looks right.”

So Will nods and goes into one of the rooms, shutting the door. When it clicks and the knob snaps into place, he pushes in the lock.

There’s a navy blue sailor dress that fits. Lonnie approves. He also approves of the denim jeans, the dark purple blouse, the plain white t-shirt. He approves of the first skirt, too. It’s plated and falls down to his knees and black. It matches one of Jonathan’s old shirts that Will has at home, one that wasn’t Jonathan’s but came from a friend of his that Jonathan wore briefly before passing it down.

As Will changes into the second skirt, he realizes it’s shorter. It’s light pink and matches one of the shirts he had grabbed, too. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever want to wear it, but he knows he will because clothes are clothes. He can’t be too picky if he wants something that fits. He’s sure he can wear one of Jonathan’s shorts under it.

He exits the fitting room, wearing the matching shirt, to show his dad.

Lonnie is sitting on one of the metal benches, flipping through a magazine with a bored look on his face. When he hears the door open, he looks up and stares at his son. He moves his eyes down to Will’s bare knees.

“I don’t think we should get you that.” Lonnie says.

“Oh.” Will says, not finding any desire to complain. Still, he’s curious. “Why?”

“It’s a little revealing for you.” Lonnie says. “You’re only ten.”

Will doesn’t understand. He’s seen girls wear skirts like this. He’s seen girls at Jonathan’s school wear skirts even shorter. “Oh.” He says again.

 “Come here.” Lonnie says, gesturing at his chest to get Will closer. He’s interpreting Will’s scrunched face as disappointment.

He gets closer and he feels his dad’s hand run against the back of his knee, until it’s circled around and there’s a tight grip. It makes him wobble and he places a hand on the corner of his dad’s shoulder to balance himself.

“You have to understand,” Lonnie begins, “You’re an Omega. You shouldn’t show yourself off unless you want attention. Do you want attention?” He asks, staring directly into Will’s eyes.

It’s unnerving and Will’s stomach grows uneasy. It’s clenching and rolling simultaneously. He wants attention, of course he does, from his brother, his mom, his friends, and his dad, too. So he says, “Yes.”

“From who?” Lonnie asks, the grip tightening before becoming loose again. His hand slides up from the back of his knee to the back of his thigh, underneath the skirt. Will’s skin feels too tight and his dad’s touch makes him feel like all of his molecules are trying to shrink away.

“I-“ Will stutters, “I want attention, from,” He swallows spit in his mouth, forming a ball in his throat, his heart pounding and clenching while moths battle in his stomach, “From you and Jonathan and mom.”

Lonnie’s hand vanishes. Will doesn’t move, still close enough to his dad to see stubble and pores.

“I’ll get you the skirt.” Lonnie says. “But I’ll get you tights to wear underneath it.”

**Author's Note:**

> so, yeah. hope y'all are enjoying so far. i'll be updating the tags as I post every chapter to try to avoid spoilers, but the real stuff has already been tagged unless something changes.
> 
> comment compliments and criticisms, I like attention


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